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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014303">Do I?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janamelie/pseuds/Janamelie'>Janamelie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dwarf (UK TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crossdressing, Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:08:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janamelie/pseuds/Janamelie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lister and Cat have fun in one of the ship's wedding dress shops, much to Rimmer's bewilderment.</p><p>A remix continuation of "I Do" by Felineranger, written for the Red Dwarf Fic Remix Fest 2020.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave Lister/Arnold Rimmer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Red Dwarf Fic Remix Fest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Do I?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/gifts">felineranger</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/3504932">I Do</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/pseuds/felineranger">felineranger</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This follows straight on from the ending of Felineranger's fic.</p><p>I hereby reject Kryten's Series VII characterisation regarding the Nova 5 ladies as it makes no sense. :p</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sorry to interrupt, sirs, but Holly said you were all down here and I wanted to- Mr Lister? What’s the matter?”</p><p>Lister was slumped on one of the shop’s couches, lager in hand. “He thinks my bum’s too big and nobody will ever want to marry me!” He pointed accusingly at Rimmer.</p><p>“For the last time, Lister, I never-”</p><p>“Did you or did you not describe my bum as like two badly parked Volkshwagens?!”</p><p>Rimmer fidgeted. “Alright, technically I may have.”</p><p>“Well, sir, I must say that sounds uncalled-for.”</p><p>Rimmer bristled under the double glare from the mechanoid and his sozzled bunkmate. “Look here, Kryten, don’t get ideas above your station! I’m the superior officer on this ship and I don’t take criticism from bogbots!”</p><p>“Ta-DAAA!” Cat sashayed out of the dressing room. “This is the best one yet, buds!” His slender frame was now set off by a sleeveless, clinging dress in a shade of magenta reminiscent of bright pink lipstick. The padded bodice was elaborately embroidered in gold.</p><p>“Why, Mr Cat! Don’t you look nice!”</p><p>Rimmer snorted incredulously. “Nice? Didn’t you notice he’s wearing a dress?!”</p><p>“Of course I noticed. A very pretty one. I wonder how long it would take to wash though. I’d have to do it by hand and be extremely careful. That’s probably the most fragile garment I’ve ever seen.”</p><p>“Hello?” Rimmer slapped his forehead despairingly. “Am I the only one here who remembers that men aren’t supposed to wear dresses?!”</p><p>“Says who?” Cat scoffed. “You think I’m taking fashion advice from a dude who looks like the last chocolate in the box?”</p><p>“I don’t understand your point, sir. Miss Jane, Miss Tracy and Miss Anne wore trousers, dresses or skirts depending upon how they happened to feel that day. How is this any different?”</p><p>“It just <strong>is</strong>,” Rimmer insisted feebly.</p><p>“Well, I don’t get it either.” Holly materialised on the shop’s security camera, the same diamond tiara she’d worn at Kryten’s farewell party placed artfully over her short blonde hair. “If they want to dress up, let ‘em. There isn’t enough fun around here.”</p><p>Classical music began wafting from the shop’s speaker system. Holly bobbed her head appreciatively to the jaunty melody.</p><p>Cat executed a graceful spin, his layers of skirts swirling dazzlingly. “Owwwww!!! Come on, bud!” He gestured towards Lister. “You were having fun before Alphabet Head showed up. Are you really gonna listen to him?”</p><p>Lister drained his can of lager decisively. “No, I’m not!” He rose unsteadily, teetered and sat abruptly back down again.</p><p>“Lister, you’re steaming drunk. You should be going to bed, not prancing around in drag.”</p><p>“Ah, smeg off.” Lister began to stand up once more, determination in his features. Kryten offered a hand and hauled him to his feet. “Cheers, Krytes. Now let’s go and find something else to wear.”</p><p>Rimmer shook his head as the pair headed further into the shop. “I give up.” He plopped himself down into the vacated faux leather sofa and waited, arms folded, as Cat continued to sway elegantly around the room in time to the music, admiring himself from every possible angle in the banks of mirrors.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Fifteen minutes or so later, Rimmer looked up as the music changed to what he recognised as Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. The dressing room curtain twitched and Lister emerged, leaning slightly on Kryten’s arm.</p><p>Cat grinned broadly. “Bud, that’s a terrific choice! I knew if you hung around me long enough, your taste would finally improve!”</p><p>“You look great, Dave.” Holly beamed encouragingly.</p><p>Lister smiled coyly. He was clad in a deep amethyst silk gown with a scalloped neckline and sleeves which fell off his shoulders fetchingly. The delicate bodice was lavishly adorned with strewn silken roses, cascading down both the front and back in the same vivid shade as the carpet-sweeping skirt.</p><p>“You know, I always thought wedding dreshes had to be white.” He cast a happy glance at the nearest mirror. “If I’d known they could be any colour, I’d have tried one on before now.”</p><p>Rimmer cleared his throat. “Lister-”</p><p>Four pairs of reproving eyes turned on him. “Shut it, Goalpost Head.”</p><p>“If you can’t say anything nice, Arn, then maybe just zip it.”</p><p>Rimmer held up a hand. “I do have something nice to say, actually.” Rimmer attempted a stiff, conciliatory smile in Lister’s direction. “I concede, OK? Your bum doesn’t look big in <strong>that</strong>.”</p><p>There was a pregnant pause, then Lister laughed. “Too right it doesn’t, you smeghead. Kryten, can you look in me jacket pockets? I’m sure I’ve got one more can in there.”</p><p>He preened before the mirrors and swept his locks dramatically over one bare shoulder. “Fabulous.”</p><p>Feeling eyes upon him, he looked back and met Rimmer’s gaze tipsily. “So what were you gettin’ at with the ‘forbidden passion fruit’ thing again?”</p>
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